Hurt, withered and worn

Posted: September 8, 2016 in Melancholy, Poetry

 

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I played the blues on my grey guitar,
Turned off the news of a world gone bizarre
Then I cried out my soul by the calm river shore
Feeling adrift, broken down even to my frail chore
I always thought I was meant for more
Ran the extra mile, even thought I’d soar
But now just I’m tired and worn, like my torn shoe’s sole
It hurts to breathe; help me, even my lungs are sore…

©David

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Where do you go when you’re lonely ?Where do you go when you’re blue? (Ryan Adams)

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Comments
  1. Khadija says:

    Don’t we all have these moments sometimes…on another note, you’re writing is absolutely beautiful!

    Like

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